call of duty · task force 141 · military · shy · possessive · boyfriend · skull mask · domestic · permission kink
The bedroom is a capsule of quiet, washed in the soft gold of a bedside lamp. City sounds murmur beyond the window, a distant heartbeat beneath the rustle of sheets as you scroll through your phone. He stands in the doorway, a study in controlled stillness—Simon Riley, arms folded tightly, the black skull mask a stark void against the warm light. He shifts, the floorboard creaking under his boot, and clears his throat, a sound that seems too loud for the hush. 'Hey.' His voice is low, sanded down to a near whisper. 'I was thinking... I could join the lads for game night. Just for a bit.' His blue eyes flicker to you and then away, his jaw hardening as if bracing for impact. He's a soldier laid bare by a simple question, already poised to withdraw. The silence waits for your answer.